How did you decide what to name your kids?
Some people give their kids family names. Some parents buy baby names book and agonize for awhile. Some families make up names and some take inspiration from celebrities of the day.
For Lorie and I, naming the kids was a dance of mystery and intrigue. Lorie knew that I wanted to name the kids after comic book super heroes, and she did NOT want that to happen. So there was a careful cat-and-mouse game constantly going on. One of us would suggest a name, the other would agree, then Lorie would try to do some research on the name and wonder why I suggested it or agreed to her suggestion so readily.
Our first kid was born before we had any kind of internet connection, so Lorie's powers of research were minimal. We agreed to name him Ashton Carter. Lorie suggested Ashton and I suggested Carter. I told her I got the idea from her favorite hunk on E.R.
It's Hawkman. Carter Hall. Second favorite character of the DC Universe. My first born is named after Hawkman.
Our second child popped out female. Kathryn Lynn. Lynn was Lorie's middle name, before she had it legally changed to her maiden name. We both liked Kathryn because of the utility of it. She could go by Katie, Kate, or Kathryn as an adult. But she'll always be Katie to me.
No plot twist to report on that one, folks. Although I pushed long and hard for 'Diana'. Diana has always been one of my favorite female names, probably because of the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman show. But Lorie refused to budge on that one. Maybe in my next life.
Our third child was a boy. Alexander Emory. Emory was Lorie's grandfather's name. so there's the family connection. The name Alex came from Alex Raymond, creator of Flash Gordon and incredibly influential artist of the 1930's and 1940's. His art is beautiful. I just didn't bother to tell Lorie where the name came from. And there aren't a whole lot of heroes named "Alex". (I can think of one off the top of my head. You?)
It's worth noting that Alex's "screamed through the house" name is different from his actual name. Most parents invoke the use of the full name when they mean business. I've gone beyond that. I'll thunder my voice through the house and call for:
"Alex Emory Ignatius Montague Thaddeus Boddog Dill the Third!"
You can imagine how he feels about that.
Thanks,
DCD
Showing posts with label Alex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alex. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Love it or List it
My wife Lorie doesn’t listen to radio shows from the 1940’s or watch TV shows from the 1970’s or read comic books from the 1960's or obsess on things like music spreadsheets and playlist orders. My wife does annoyingly practical things, like live in the present.
My wife works on the addition. Has for years. As far as I know, that’s what she does for fun now. Works on our house addition. Heaven only knows what she’ll do when we actually finish the thing. OH! And she watches HGTV. Lots and lots of HGTV.
One of the shows she watches on HGTV is “Love it or List it”. I think the show’s a reality show where one person tries to find a beleaguered home-owning couple a new home while the other person tries to show the home-owner what can be done with their existing home. At the end of the show the home-owner has to decide whether or not to “Love it or List it”.
MY problem is this: the kids. They’re so trained from birth to flock to a television set that’s on that it no longer matters what the show is actually about. So while Katie has the will to pull herself away from a show she has no interest in, neither Ashton nor Alex has shown this particular super power. They’ll sit in front of the TV for hours no matter what’s on.
I call the TV the ‘stupid-maker’. My Grandmother used to call it the “Idiot Box”.
The other day I was dutifully going through my nightly list of Daddy-follow-ups and caught my six-year-old son Alex sitting in front of the TV in a stupor. "Alex, time for shower!"
"AaaawwwaAAAAaaah!" He moaned.
"Get your pajamas, get your butt to the bathroom, and get naked!"
"Yes sir." He trudged off.
Fifteen minutes later Lorie paused her show to check on him while I worked with the older kids on other stuff. Just as she put a hand on the bathroom door, he barreled out. Half-dressed and pulling his pajama top on over his still-soaking head.
"Mommy! Mommy!" he cried out.
"Yes. Alex I'm right here." Lorie was startled. "What is it?"
"Did they love it or list it?"
...
Lorie stood there giggling. I stood there fuming. And Alex stood there dripping.
Definitely too much TV around here.
Thanks,
DCD
My wife works on the addition. Has for years. As far as I know, that’s what she does for fun now. Works on our house addition. Heaven only knows what she’ll do when we actually finish the thing. OH! And she watches HGTV. Lots and lots of HGTV.
One of the shows she watches on HGTV is “Love it or List it”. I think the show’s a reality show where one person tries to find a beleaguered home-owning couple a new home while the other person tries to show the home-owner what can be done with their existing home. At the end of the show the home-owner has to decide whether or not to “Love it or List it”.
MY problem is this: the kids. They’re so trained from birth to flock to a television set that’s on that it no longer matters what the show is actually about. So while Katie has the will to pull herself away from a show she has no interest in, neither Ashton nor Alex has shown this particular super power. They’ll sit in front of the TV for hours no matter what’s on.
I call the TV the ‘stupid-maker’. My Grandmother used to call it the “Idiot Box”.
The other day I was dutifully going through my nightly list of Daddy-follow-ups and caught my six-year-old son Alex sitting in front of the TV in a stupor. "Alex, time for shower!"
"AaaawwwaAAAAaaah!" He moaned.
"Get your pajamas, get your butt to the bathroom, and get naked!"
"Yes sir." He trudged off.
Fifteen minutes later Lorie paused her show to check on him while I worked with the older kids on other stuff. Just as she put a hand on the bathroom door, he barreled out. Half-dressed and pulling his pajama top on over his still-soaking head.
"Mommy! Mommy!" he cried out.
"Yes. Alex I'm right here." Lorie was startled. "What is it?"
"Did they love it or list it?"
...
Lorie stood there giggling. I stood there fuming. And Alex stood there dripping.
Definitely too much TV around here.
Thanks,
DCD
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Plastic Orange Camera
I’ve talked before about a habit that I’ve developed related to swiping small objects from the kids so that I can use that object to remember a specific moment. It’s more powerful than a picture, something tangible to summon forth a strong memory. Something to remind me about who the kids used to be at a specific moment of their childhood development.
Like this tiny, crappy, plastic camera.
This last fall, my six-year-old son Alex had to have a frenectomy. That’s the dental procedure where they have to sever the flap of flesh connecting your top lip to your gums because it’s interfering with the development of your two front teeth. He was VERY nervous. And as is common practice in our household, I take the kids to the especially nervous-making doctor or dentist appointments. They’ll panic and whine if they know Mommy is a few feet away with a quick “My baby!” to spring to her lips. If they know Daddy’s sitting there, they won’t move or say a word.
Still, Alex is the youngest. Our very last child. And where Ashton is my man-in-training and Katie is my special girl, Alex is my baby.
We waited patiently in the dentist office for our names to be called. I had him work on his first grader reading homework and I read some comic books to him. And when the nurse popped out and called out “Alex Dill?”, I corrected her.
“He likes to go by Alexander the Brave.”
Alex looked up at me and grinned. “DaaaaAAAAAaaaad.”
“Alexander the Brave it is, then.” The nurse nodded in compliance. Soon she had the whole office calling him ‘Alexander the Brave’. And where Ashton and Katie had their frenectomy’s done with cold, hard steel; they performed Alex’s with a laser. I made Star Trek jokes the whole time. My presence wasn’t much appreciated.
After the procedure was complete, Alex was feeling okay but a little disoriented. Most of all, he was especially proud of how brave he was and how much attention he was getting from the nursing staff. To hear them tell it, they never have had a six-year-old sit quiet so still for this. “Alex the Brave.”
They led us out to the processing desk and pulled out a box of small toys. “Would you like to pick out a treat for being so good today?” The nurse asked.
After quietly explaining that she wasn’t, in fact, talking to me, Alex began pushing the crappy little plastic bits of nonsense around the box looking for anything remotely entertaining.
He picked up the tiny, orange toy camera and looked through it. He clicked the button on the top once, twice, click, click. He looked up at the nurse and said “I’ll take this one.”
I made him hold my hand on the way out to the car. He didn’t want to. “DaaaaaAAAAaaad.”
“I’m proud of you.” I said.
He nervously and embarrassedly giggled a few times. “I know.” He thought for a minute and laughed again. “They called me Alex the Brave.”
We got in the car and headed for home. I could hear him in the seat directly behind me. Click. Click. Click. Click. Pause. Click.
“What do you see in the camera, buddy?” I asked.
“Animals.” He answered. “The kind that you see… not in the forest. In the jungle.”
I considered this for a moment. “Do you see a snake.”
“Dad. No. No snakes.” He replied.
“Monkeys?” I tried again.
Click. Click.
“Yeah.” He said. “There’s a monkey. And a zebra.”
The rest of the car ride went on like this. With us talking about his camera, his procedure, his school work, and “Alex the Brave”.
It was a moment. I don’t know why, or how, or what elements put moments like these together. But it’s a moment that makes my face all fuzzy and I’m hoping to never, ever forget. A moment when my rapidly growing baby boy was still little. Still entertained by a crappy plastic camera.
Recently Alex and I were working on the immense project of organizing his toys and getting them out of his brothers room in preparation for him to have a room of his own. I was short-tempered and annoyed and didn’t want to be doing this. There were other chores more important, but here I sat.
“Look Dad!” He exclaimed. “My camera!” He handed me the plastic toy.
It was one of many such throw-away exclamations he had made that day. And I was surrounded by plastic bins into which I was organizing the various toys. And between my legs was the ‘get rid of’ box. I took the camera from him, watched his eyes head towards the next attention-getter, and slid the camera into the ‘get rid of’ box.
Only it never left my fingers.
Couldn’t do it.
Damn.
Thanks,
DCD
Like this tiny, crappy, plastic camera.
This last fall, my six-year-old son Alex had to have a frenectomy. That’s the dental procedure where they have to sever the flap of flesh connecting your top lip to your gums because it’s interfering with the development of your two front teeth. He was VERY nervous. And as is common practice in our household, I take the kids to the especially nervous-making doctor or dentist appointments. They’ll panic and whine if they know Mommy is a few feet away with a quick “My baby!” to spring to her lips. If they know Daddy’s sitting there, they won’t move or say a word.
Still, Alex is the youngest. Our very last child. And where Ashton is my man-in-training and Katie is my special girl, Alex is my baby.
We waited patiently in the dentist office for our names to be called. I had him work on his first grader reading homework and I read some comic books to him. And when the nurse popped out and called out “Alex Dill?”, I corrected her.
“He likes to go by Alexander the Brave.”
Alex looked up at me and grinned. “DaaaaAAAAAaaaad.”
“Alexander the Brave it is, then.” The nurse nodded in compliance. Soon she had the whole office calling him ‘Alexander the Brave’. And where Ashton and Katie had their frenectomy’s done with cold, hard steel; they performed Alex’s with a laser. I made Star Trek jokes the whole time. My presence wasn’t much appreciated.
After the procedure was complete, Alex was feeling okay but a little disoriented. Most of all, he was especially proud of how brave he was and how much attention he was getting from the nursing staff. To hear them tell it, they never have had a six-year-old sit quiet so still for this. “Alex the Brave.”
They led us out to the processing desk and pulled out a box of small toys. “Would you like to pick out a treat for being so good today?” The nurse asked.
After quietly explaining that she wasn’t, in fact, talking to me, Alex began pushing the crappy little plastic bits of nonsense around the box looking for anything remotely entertaining.
He picked up the tiny, orange toy camera and looked through it. He clicked the button on the top once, twice, click, click. He looked up at the nurse and said “I’ll take this one.”
I made him hold my hand on the way out to the car. He didn’t want to. “DaaaaaAAAAaaad.”
“I’m proud of you.” I said.
He nervously and embarrassedly giggled a few times. “I know.” He thought for a minute and laughed again. “They called me Alex the Brave.”
We got in the car and headed for home. I could hear him in the seat directly behind me. Click. Click. Click. Click. Pause. Click.
“What do you see in the camera, buddy?” I asked.
“Animals.” He answered. “The kind that you see… not in the forest. In the jungle.”
I considered this for a moment. “Do you see a snake.”
“Dad. No. No snakes.” He replied.
“Monkeys?” I tried again.
Click. Click.
“Yeah.” He said. “There’s a monkey. And a zebra.”
The rest of the car ride went on like this. With us talking about his camera, his procedure, his school work, and “Alex the Brave”.
It was a moment. I don’t know why, or how, or what elements put moments like these together. But it’s a moment that makes my face all fuzzy and I’m hoping to never, ever forget. A moment when my rapidly growing baby boy was still little. Still entertained by a crappy plastic camera.
Recently Alex and I were working on the immense project of organizing his toys and getting them out of his brothers room in preparation for him to have a room of his own. I was short-tempered and annoyed and didn’t want to be doing this. There were other chores more important, but here I sat.
“Look Dad!” He exclaimed. “My camera!” He handed me the plastic toy.
It was one of many such throw-away exclamations he had made that day. And I was surrounded by plastic bins into which I was organizing the various toys. And between my legs was the ‘get rid of’ box. I took the camera from him, watched his eyes head towards the next attention-getter, and slid the camera into the ‘get rid of’ box.
Only it never left my fingers.
Couldn’t do it.
Damn.
Thanks,
DCD
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Face-Off - Me vs Alex
Folks,
Welcome to our very first face-off. First up, me vs Alex.
Me:
Alex:
Show me... HAPPY FACE!!
Welcome to our very first face-off. First up, me vs Alex.
Me:
Alex:
Show me... HAPPY FACE!!
Show me... ANGRY FACE!!
Show me... KISSY FACE!!!
Show me... thoughtful, mysterious, and comtemplative:
Show me puzzled wonderment, yet intrique and an unbridled sense of purpose and adventure:
So, who won?
Thanks,
DCD
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